Books, Arts & Manners: Yes, Yes, BB

It’s 1925 and F. Scott Fitzgerald is in his glory. The Great War is comfortably behind and the Great Depression comfortably ahead. Men wear white flannels and blazers, knickers and argyles, bell-bottoms. It’s the day of the cane and the straw hat. Women’s waistlines dangle somewhere south of the hip and their skirts flap at half calf. Chiffon abounds. Beads, bangles and the bob. The jet set swings at Atlantic City by-the-Sea. Ukulele serenades. The world is bubbly and good. And when Nanette is told not to, generally she doesn’t. Nor does she throw a bomb, much less a tantrum. It’s the cat’s pajamas. A world where they tickle the ivories, take the Fall River Nightboat, dress spiffily and cap stories with a derisive “banana oil.” When young lover Tom gets too possessive, Nanette tells him he’s “a flat tire,” and that what she does with her money is “none of his beeswax.” To which he responds with the crushing: “Then you can go fly a kite.” Another world.

It’s 1970 and the indomitable Busby Berkeley, 76, has decided it’s never too late and that he’ll bring out of mothballs the 1925 musical No, No, Nanette, score by Vincent Youmans. For good measure he’ll get that darling of the great Hollywood musical extravaganzas of the Thirties, Ruby Keeler, out of retirement too. And as frosting on the cake, how about a touch of Patsy Kelly, the Big Bertha of the tough movie maid, she of the armadillo hide and the heart of gold.

PL

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Priscilla L. Buckley

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It’s 1925 and F. Scott Fitzgerald is in his glory. The Great War is comfortably behind and the Great Depression comfortably ahead. Men wear white flannels and blazers, knickers and argyles, bell-bottoms. It’s the day of the cane and the straw hat. Women’s waistlines dangle somewhere south of the hip and their skirts flap at half calf. Chiffon abounds. Beads, bangles and the bob. The jet set swings at Atlantic City by-the-Sea. Ukulele serenades. The world is bubbly and good. And when Nanette is told not to, generally she doesn’t. Nor does she throw a bomb, much less a tantrum. It’s the cat’s pajamas. A world where they tickle the ivories, take the Fall River Nightboat, dress spiffily and cap stories with a derisive “banana oil.” When young lover Tom gets too possessive, Nanette tells him he’s “a flat tire,” and that what she does with her money is “none of his beeswax.” To which he responds with the crushing: “Then you can go fly a kite.” Another world.

It’s 1970 and the indomitable Busby Berkeley, 76, has decided it’s never too late and that he’ll bring out of mothballs the 1925 musical No, No, Nanette, score by Vincent Youmans. For good measure he’ll get that darling of the great Hollywood musical extravaganzas of the Thirties, Ruby Keeler, out of retirement too. And as frosting on the cake, how about a touch of Patsy Kelly, the Big Bertha of the tough movie maid, she of the armadillo hide and the heart of gold.